


Hang 'Em High

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: Logan and Charles keep watch inside an abandoned farmhouse, waiting for their pursuers to catch up with them.





	Hang 'Em High

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gerec](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/gifts).



> Happy birthday my darling Ger! <3

The sun was setting across the arid desert and Logan’s eyes were trained on the horizon, watching the prairie grow darker with each passing minute. He had a rifle slung across his chest, ready to be pulled up and fired at a moment’s notice should it be required, and the stump of a long-dead cigar sat in his mouth, the base heavily chewed down due to the length of time it had spent between Logan’s teeth.

He had been sat there for hours now, all but unmoving, watching the road unceasingly, his vigilance never wavering.

‘Your back is going to be all kinds of stiff if you keep sitting there all day.’

Logan barely twitched at the sound of the voice behind him. ‘You’re awake then?’ he grunted, slowly moving from his perch on the window ledge to turn and look around. He took in the sight of his partner, Charles, who was leaning against the door with his hip propped against the frame, one of his thumbs casually slung into the loop of his leather belt, with his palm just barely caressing the pistol that hung in the holster at his side. He looked good, Logan observed to himself, with his hair mussed from sleep and his rough wool shirt open at the throat. His eyes lingered there for a moment before he glanced back up, only to see Charles studying him in return. His assessing look became a smile as Logan stood up – though in truth it looked more like a smirk than a smile – and he straightened just as Logan did, moving his hip away from the door frame and mirroring Logan’s pose. 

‘Nothing wrong with taking a nap when you’re able to,’ he said easily, shrugging without concern even as his eyes glinted mischievously, their gleam belying the calm veneer that was part of the usual façade that Charles generally chose to put forward.

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘Funny how you feel like you’re able to _now_ , considering how we got an angry posse after us determined to see us hanged by our necks,’ he drawled, even as his eyes flicked back to the window, restless.

Charles just grinned. He very rarely showed concern for such matters; it took a lot to faze him and it took a great deal more to dig deep and get past the walls that he’d put up around himself. Logan had known him for several months now – had travelled with him, eaten with him, gone rustling with him, and had fought alongside him _and_ with him – but he was only just beginning to succeed in peeling back some of Charles’s many layers. He hadn’t managed to learn very much just yet – only that Charles came from a very affluent family (‘my mother swears we’re descended from royalty,’ Charles had laughed on one of the rare occasions that he had been communicative) but had fled west as soon as he was able to. A sister had also been mentioned – lost now, by the sounds of it, though still much beloved going by the way Charles spoke about her. The name Erik had also come up – just the once, when Charles had been very drunk – but Logan hadn’t been able to gather whether it was the name of a friend or if he was someone that Charles loathed. It had been difficult to tell. Either way, Logan didn’t like the sound of him.

‘There have been more than a few angry posses after us in our time together, Logan,’ Charles said with a laugh and a roll of his eyes. ‘If I stopped sleeping every time one of them came after us then I’d not have had a wink of sleep in the last month.’

‘I’m not saying don’t sleep,’ Logan grumbled, not knowing why he was arguing the point. Having an argument with Charles about anything was just fighting a losing battle. ‘I’m only saying that you should be more careful. You’re gonna have to start learning some sort of self-preservation out here, Chuck.’

Charles smiled. ‘Why?’ he asked, and he cocked his head to the side as if puzzled. ‘I have you to watch my back for me, don’t I?’

Logan sighed, resisting the urge to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose. ‘Charles …’ he said, and then trailed off, not knowing what to say in response. Charles always managed to have this effect on him, managed to disarm him through the most simplest of statements. He shook his head wearily. ‘You shouldn’t take that for granted … You can’t just rely on that, Charles.’

Charles’s smile didn’t falter. ‘No?’ he asked innocently. ‘You mean to say you don’t have my back, partner?’

Logan scowled. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ he grumbled, glaring down at the floor. Conversations with Charles often went this way, making his tongue thick in his mouth and tying him all up in knots. Logan wasn’t fond of clever-talk and verbal trickery; he was a plain spoken man who talked straight and blunt, and before Charles he’d only ever chosen to deal with similarly plain-speaking folk like himself. Quite why he’d chosen to make an exception when it came to Charles, he had no idea.

… No, that was a lie. He knew quite well just why he put up with it. 

He heaved a sigh at the thought and looked up, intending to firmly change the subject back to the real matter at hand. Charles, however, beat him to it. He had moved to stand in front of the window where Logan had previously been perched and his eyes were fixed on the same horizon that Logan’s had been.

‘Look,’ he said quietly when Logan joined him.

Logan obeyed, squinting out towards the setting sun. At first he saw nothing. Then he saw it – clouds of dust rising up from the ground in the distance, no doubt caused by the pounding of hooves on the hard desert floor – and he cursed.

‘Ready the horses,’ he barked, swinging his rifle up and bracing it against his arm. ‘They’ve found us.’

‘Yes,’ Charles agreed calmly. ‘They have.’ He didn’t look agitated in the least, and he made no move to go to the horses. 

‘Charles!’ Logan growled. ‘You just gonna stand there all day or are you planning on helping us get out of here?’

Charles turned to him. ‘Look,’ he said coolly, nodding towards the oncoming horses. ‘How many do you see?’

Logan gritted his teeth impatiently but nevertheless turned to face the desert. He squinted his eyes to see past the glare of the lowering sun and stared hard. ‘Five,’ he said at last. ‘I count five.’

‘I count the same,’ Charles said with a nod. He turned to Logan, his eyebrow raised. ‘I think we can take them.’

Logan stared. ‘Please tell me you’re joking,’ he growled.

‘I’m not.’

Logan cursed. ‘Christ Charles,’ he gritted out. ‘Those are Stryker’s men out there. He’s been baying for our blood for months now. You know what they’ll do to us if they catch us.’

Charles grinned. ‘Hang us from the highest tree they find, probably,’ he said, unconcerned. ‘So we’d better make sure that they don’t catch us, don’t you think?’ He held out his hand, indicating the rifle. ‘Hand it over, please.’

Logan’s eyes narrowed.

Charles sighed. ‘Running away is all well and good but if we keep doing that then we can never get them off our trail,’ he said patiently. ‘This way we can at least even the odds before they get anywhere near us.’ When Logan continued to glare at him he rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, Logan, you know it makes sense. And as for the rifle,’ he raised his chin arrogantly, his grin returning. ‘We both know that I’m the better sharpshooter out of the two of us. Your strengths lie in … closer quarters.’

Logan ignored the suggestive insinuation (for he had no doubt that that’s what it had been) and instead reluctantly handed over the rifle, allowing Charles to take it from him. He was a practical man, after all, and Charles was right on both counts: one, that it was better to make a stand while they had the defensive advantage instead of running away, and two, that Charles was a much better shot with long-distance targets than he was.

‘Splendid,’ Charles said as he adjusted the rifle in his arms, taking up his position and leaning into it, holding the rifle like a lover. ‘Let’s see if this little beauty can help even things up for us.’

Logan watched him as he bent forward, taking his aim, his eyes drawn to the capable motion of Charles’s fingers on the rifle.

Charles drew in a breath. Then:

_Bang!_

There was a cry from the distance and Logan quickly scanned the area, his eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘One down,’ he said, nodding with grim admiration.

Charles didn’t reply. He had already reloaded the rifle and was concentrating on making his next shot. 

_Bang!_

Another went down. Logan didn’t have to strain his eyes to know that he was dead before he hit the ground.

The men were now in turmoil. They had their own guns out and were firing towards them but they had neither Charles’s skill nor an open shot available; Charles and Logan were secure in their abandoned farmhouse while their pursuers were out in the open, like sitting ducks.

Charles was raising his gun again, once more reloaded and ready to fire. 

‘Gonna keep all the fun to yourself, Chuck?’ Logan murmured.

Charles paused and then his mouth pulled upwards. ‘I do apologise,’ he said smoothly, relaxing his stance. He straightened up and held the rifle out to Logan. ‘Please, be my guest.’

Logan took the gun and weighed it in his hands for a moment before bringing it up to his chest. He leaned down and took aim.

He cursed after a minute. ‘Those horses are too damn skittish,’ he growled. ‘They won’t stay still. I can’t line up a shot.’

‘Excuses, excuses,’ Charles murmured. 

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Refocusing his gaze, he concentrated hard, trying to find an opening. 

‘On the left,’ Charles said quietly, his breath tickling Logan’s ear.

Logan gritted his teeth. His gun swung left. He fired.

Charles smiled. ‘Good shot,’ he said.

Logan drew himself up, glaring down at him. ‘I don’t need any help making a shot,’ he growled, feeling distinctly annoyed.

Charles was unrepentant. ‘Of course you don’t,’ he said serenely, patting Logan on the arm. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t interfere with the next one.’

‘Sure you won’t,’ Logan said darkly, turning back to the window. He studied the scene for a minute and then swore. ‘Damn. Those cowardly sons of bitches are running.’

‘What?’ Charles peered into the evening sky, a frown on his forehead. ‘Well. That’s disappointing.’ 

Logan continued to watch the men flee, feeling distinctly dissatisfied. ‘You know,’ he said after a beat. ‘If those men make it back then they’ll be able to report to Stryker about our movements.’

Charles turned to look at him. ‘Oh,’ he said slowly. ‘Well we wouldn’t want that.’

‘No, we wouldn’t,’ Logan said, his smile sharp. He then turned to look at Charles, his expression wry. ‘If I ask you to go and ready the horses _now_ , will you actually do it this time?’

Charles smirked. ‘Always happy to help, Mr. Howlett,’ he said cheerfully, and then turned on his heel.

Logan snorted but by the time he’d thought to make a scathing retort, Charles had already gone.

Shortly after, the notorious outlaws Logan ‘The Wolf’ Howlett and Charles ‘The Kid’ Francis rode out into the sunset, chasing the sheriff’s men across the desert and into the blood red horizon.


End file.
